


of lending & sharing

by tunnelOFdawn



Category: Monster (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunnelOFdawn/pseuds/tunnelOFdawn
Summary: A brief exploration into the characters of Monster.[And the Monster says, “How awful and greedy of you to not lend me your skin.”“I only have so much skin,” the Woman says.The Monster shakes its head. “But was it ever really your skin?”]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	of lending & sharing

_It was like Anna and I were the only ones left in the world._

—

And the Monster says, “How awful and greedy of you to not lend me your skin.”

“I only have so much skin,” the Woman says.

The Monster shakes its head. “But was it ever really your skin?”

The Woman shudders under the covetous gaze of the Monster. The gaze is too familiar—a sight she sees everyday but does not want to recognize. There are words that twist her tongue and only a few escape. “It’s mine,” she says fervently. “It’s mine!”

If the Monster had lips, it would frown. As it is, its jaw clacks resentfully. “But you and I—we’re the same,” the Monster says. “I don’t see why you can’t share.”

The Woman frowns. She says, “We are not the same.” The edge to her voice is well-honed.

“And if you didn’t have this skin,” the Monster continues, “you would see that you and I are the same. Your bones—my bones. Our bones...”

“My bones are my bones; my skin is my skin,” the Woman says. Head held high, she stares down the Monster. Her mouth firms into a thin line and her eyes—oh, they _burn_. She will not let this Monster steal her identity. Her identity is not encapsulated in her skin but neither is it in her memories. Memories are mutable. But her heart...oh, her heart!

The Monster nods affably. “Then, if you will not lend me your skin, lend me your heart,” the Monster says. The Monster peels back its ribcage with an unholy cracking of its bones. The ribs splay out like the wings of a pinned butterfly. Nothing resides in its cavity—empty and hollow.

The Woman raises a hand to her chest. Her heart beats at a steady pace that she is loathe to disrupt. The Monster’s words quickens her heartbeat. The thunder of her heartbeat resounds in her ears in a great whooshing sound that enraptures both her and the Monster.

“You have enough heart,” the Monster croons. It lumbers closer to the Woman, soundless steps that do not touch the earth. A rush of wind blows through the hollow cavities of the Monster. It sounds like wind chimes.

The Woman does not step back from the Monster. She knows the Monster too well to display weakness. Moreover, she _knows_ the Monster. The Monster does not frighten the Woman. The Woman is frightened of herself.

“Don’t be greedy,” the Monster says. “Share with me your heart, as you have shared everything else.”

“And what,” the Woman says loudly, “else did I share with you? I have given you nothing.”

The Monster laughs in a high, lonesome sound. “You gave me your memories,” the Monster says. “You ruined me.”

“Am I to become responsible, forever, for what I have tamed?” the Woman says wryly.

“If you tame me,” the Monster softly recites, “then we shall need each other.”

The Woman smiles. It is a slow, awful thing. “But, Johan,” she says, “I don’t need you. I forgave you.”

—

_I'm sure of one thing. I know that one day Johan will destroy himself, just like me._

* * *

**johan**

There is something of the profane in the veins of the nameless boy and of the named Johan. He cringes in the light—the light that which would make shadows of men. All glory siphoned off in favor of cruel misdeeds verging on the edge of disaster.

An endless yawning void in Johan that hungers such that the force of its desires turns outwards in a carnivorous feast. He rends flesh and muscle from bone—all to consume the soft marrow.

A monster—yes, it is a monster that which clothes itself in human flesh stretched taut.

There is divinity in the facade.

* * *

**skin**

Climbing into her skin is quick and easy.

An utter sense of rightness encompasses him. Johan was made for this. No, _they_ were made for this. Twins with a transient identity. Why not indulge? He is she and she is he. One and the same, for all that Anna would break free.

They have smooth skin. Years of erosion wearing them down. They smile. Johan’s eyes never crease but Anna’s do. Maybe that is why Mother chose him. She knew of his burgeoning emptiness, but the pain he experienced never filled up that hole.

A black hole resides in him.

* * *

**anna**

Made of flesh.

Made of bone.

Call me Anna.

Call me Nina.

What difference does it make? You can take memories away but there is an untouchable core nestled away in each and every soul. Her identity may be transient but her soul resides untarnished in this husk of flesh and bone.

All the actions she will take is of her own undertaking and volition. Nobody can steal away her agency, let alone her brother.

How funny that they look at her like a broken piece of glassware. In truth, her brother is composed of the scattered remnants of boyhood.

* * *

**tenma**

You have hands, don’t you? And if you do and if they work, oh, the things you can _do_!

Doctor.

Killer.

He takes up scalpel and gun in deft hands. He has clever hands, don’t you know? He would rather he didn’t know because now he knows all the depths to which he will sink. It’s the knowing that gets you and gets him caught on the edge of a nightmare waiting to wake up.

It all ends happily. Justice is served but he _knows_. The remembrance never ends because he has bones that ache and muscles that always shiver.

* * *

**dieter**

I have a best friend now! He is terribly kind. We play together. He is a doctor but he has gentle hands. They do not hurt. There is no more pain. How odd! How long has it been since I could move so freely…

The sun shines down on us. I feel warm. He holds my hand. We stop for a moment. I feel even warmer! I don’t know why…

There are birds out there, did you know? They have wings! Oh, the places they could fly to! But look! I have legs, so I will walk with my friend.

* * *

**eva**

Looking through the window and witnessing all that she will never have again. Husband, wife, child. A joyous holiday. The love of husband and wife; the love of parent and child; and the love of family.

How fleeting these emotions are.

She knows better.

All these men and they can never match up to her ideal. Kenzo, Kenzo, Kenzo. Where are you? You awful bastard...

She does not want pity.

She meets more men and she learns of the Devil. The Devil needs to die for her to gain absolution. She takes her absolution into her own hands.

She changes.

* * *

**grimmer**

_I think I must have figured out how the show ended. The Magnificent Steiner, he probably, became human again._

It is like finding home—dying, that is. It is not one big spectacular moment but rather the reunion of lost and misshapen puzzle pieces. It all fits so neatly together that he almost cannot comprehend the enormity of it all.

The emptiness in his chest has never been an emptiness. That hollow sensation had been a loss of sensitivity, the formation of scar tissue. The overactivity of his nerves battle the fatigue of dying. A revelation.

He has always been human.

* * *

**lunge**

Empty home waiting to be filled up. He fills it up with the worst parts of himself and chases away the best parts of himself. He does not know what he has lost until it is gone. That is the nature of things—of regret. Man must reap what he has sown.

He judges men guilty and innocent. The internal hard drive of his mind cannot function otherwise. But he is human. He makes mistakes. And so he says, “Doctor Tenma... I'm sorry.”

He meets a man, grim and cheery.

He dies.

So much left to discuss.

He visits the grave.


End file.
